


come put your lips on mine (and shut me up)

by alsoalsowik



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsoalsowik/pseuds/alsoalsowik
Summary: “I told you to watch where you were standing!” Bodhi shouts from across the linoleum. He drops a red solo cup, then points directly above Jyn’s head.Cassian goes almost as red as his shirt.or, Jyn doesn't know what mistletoe means and has to learn fast.





	come put your lips on mine (and shut me up)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepyKalena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyKalena/gifts).



> my rebelcaptain secret santa gift for sleepykalena! her prompt was "one of them doesn't understand what mistletoe is (or its purpose, and why), so the other will have to teach them about it" and i think i stuck to it pretty well. the title's from "talk too much" by COIN (a real jam, tbh!) as always, i hope you enjoy!!

Whoever thought throwing a Christmas party three days after the actual day would be a good idea needs to be examined. By the twenty-sixth, Jyn itches to get out of holiday sweaters and pack away anything and everything that jingles. There are only fifteen songs for the whole holiday, played ad nauseam until she can’t tell the difference between “Silent Night” and  “O Holy Night.” By the evening of the twenty-fifth, Jyn’s had more than enough.

 

Bodhi has other ideas. 

 

“This way we get to stretch out the holiday season,” he’d told her over lunch a week before Christmas. “Besides, Baze and Chirrut won’t be back from Hong Kong until Boxing Day.”

 

That’s why—on December fucking twenty-eighth—Jyn’s in Bodhi’s apartment, nursing an eggnog and trying not to overheat in her forrest green sweater dress. It’s a blessing she decided against the grey wool tights in the back of her sock drawer, because sandwiched between Bodhi’s radiator and the still-decorated Christmas tree, the freezing New York night outside is awfully appealing. 

 

Jyn likes her friends, _loves_ them, honestly, but she’s over Christmas. “At least I can get plastered on New Year’s without drawing attention to myself,” she’d said to Cassian a few weeks ago. They’ve been spending more and more time together lately, but she can’t get a solid vibe from him, whether they’re friends or a something a little extra. To err on the side of caution, she’s operating under the assumption they’re just friends. 

 

Until Cassian makes a move, that is. 

 

Not that she’s expecting anything _tonight_ specifically, but Jyn’s had enough shit-storm relationships to make her cautious. Plus, Cassian is easily her best friend. Other than Bodhi.

 

Bodhi, who, as she considers sticking her head in the freezer, makes the announcement that _everyone should watch where they stand, okay?_

 

“What?” Jyn asks over a drunken rendition of “Jingle Bells” from Luke and Chirrut. 

 

“Just, y’know, be aware of your surroundings!” Bodhi says, then scurries off to the kitchen to open more eggnog. Apparently _someone_ enjoys it.

 

Jyn follows him. “Bodhi, what does that—?” Cassian’s body smacks into hers in the kitchen doorway. Or, more likely, it’s the other way around. So much for being aware of her surroundings.

 

“Sorry,” she starts, just as Cassian murmurs his own apology. His voice is quiet in the roar of the party, almost too soft to hear. She has to lean in a little, tilt her head up to really listen. He smells good, looks good, and generally has an air of goodness about him, like always. It’s a little infuriating. “My bad,” Jyn says, voice straining over the music. “Wasn’t watching.”

 

“No worries,” Cassian replies smoothly. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and takes half a step back, more into the kitchen. Jyn knows it’s to keep a pathway open, but she misses the closeness nevertheless.  “How was your Christmas?”

 

“Good. Low-maintenance.”

 

He nods, slow smile working its way across his face. “Did you watch that…what’s that movie you were telling me about?”

 

“God, Cassian,” Jyn starts, warming up. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen _Die Hard_.”

 

“Doesn’t seem that Christmasy to me,” he says. They’re in familiar territory, this back-and-fourth, almost flirting. If she could just not put her damn foot in her mouth and stay cool, maybe they’d do…something. Get drinks alone, not at the gross dive-bar across from Jyn’s apartment. See a movie. Grab dinner. _Something._

 

“Nothing gets more Christmasy than John McClane and Nakatomi Plaza.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

This is where Jyn typically freezes up. She was labeled scary in high school and pays way more attention to her career than guys, so it’s not like she has a lot of experience under her belt. “Yeah,” she says, wanting to kick herself as soon as the word escapes her lips. The single syllable utterance acts like a wet blanket—Cassian’s face falls, and with it goes any chance Jyn had at… _something_ tonight. 

 

“Well,” Cassian starts, “I’m going to go ahead and—”

 

“I told you to watch where you were standing!” Bodhi shouts from across the linoleum. He drops a red solo cup, then points directly above Jyn’s head. 

 

Cassian goes almost as red as his shirt. 

 

Jyn looks up—it’s just a plant. Could be one of those succulents Bodhi likes, since he can’t remember to water plants to save his damn life. It looks new though, hung in the last day or so. She squints, because clearly she’s missing something based on the hoots and hollers and Cassian’s face, and amends her guess to some kind of herb bundle, tied with a red ribbon. 

 

“I don’t get it.”

 

“You don’t get it?” Cassian asks, stepping closer again. 

 

“Am I meant to?”

 

“Jyn, it’s…it’s mistletoe.”

 

“And what does—?”

 

“Why aren’t they making out yet?” Luke asks, swaying more than would be considered dancing. 

 

“I’m sorry, _what_ is Skywalker going on about?”

 

“You gotta kiss under mistletoe!” Han shouts, Leia giggling into his shoulder. 

 

Oh, _fuck._

 

“You really didn’t know…?” Cassian trails, eyes focused on her in the chaos of ten loud, drunk, onlookers. 

 

“No!” she whisper-yells. “We didn’t do all of this party bullshit for Christmas growing up. And it’s not like I have a reason to do it now!”

 

“Cassian, tradition mandates that you and Jyn kiss, immediately!” So _that’s_ who’s been drinking the spiked eggnog. 

 

“Can it, Kay! Look, Jyn, we don’t have to.”

 

It’s not that she doesn’t want to. Kiss Cassian, that is. What Jyn doesn’t want is an _audience._ They’ve been toeing the line and she really wouldn’t mind crossing it, but not here. Not like this. Not because all their friends are drunk and they _have_ to. Besides, Cassian doesn’t exactly look thrilled with the turn of events. She’s not about to be the reason their friendship goes down the drain. 

 

So, Jyn does what she’s best at and bolts. “Nice party, Bodhi!” she calls , making a beeline for the door. She doesn’t look back at Cassian when he calls her name. The door slams behind her and the temperature drops ten degrees. 

 

Crisis averted, until she remembers Leia was her ride. 

 

Well. There’s no way she’s going back inside, so sitting in the hallway outside of Bodhi’s apartment has to do. The concrete is cold and uncomfortable, but at least she doesn’t have a dozen pair of eyes on her waiting for some variation of spin the bottle bullshit. Still, there’s a lump of embarrassment caught in her throat. 

 

Not two minutes after Jyn sits down, the door opens again. “Go away, Bodhi,” she says lamely. 

 

Cassian sits beside her. “Not Bodhi,” he offers. 

 

“So I can see.”

 

For a few seconds, nobody talks and Jyn almost considers running back inside. But then Cassian turns to look at her and asks, “Did you really want to avoid kissing me that badly?”

 

Her eyes go wide. “What? Did—do you… _want_ to?”

 

“Well, it’s not how I pictured kissing you for the first time, but I wouldn’t have minded,” he says, looking awfully sincere. 

 

“But you…you looked so uninterested!”

 

“I didn’t want to pressure you, Jyn. I know how you feel about being the center of attention.”

 

She can’t believe it. “You mean if I had kissed you in front of everyone, it wouldn’t have ruined our friendship?” Jyn shakes her head to herself. “Because that’s what I was worried about. That and having a _really_ eager audience.”

 

“Of course I wouldn’t have minded, Jyn, I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity for _weeks.”_

 

So she hadn’t been imagining things. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that before tonight?” she asks, hallway between anger and elation. 

 

“I was trying to be romantic! Waiting for the perfect moment and all that. A Christmas party seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

 

Jyn shakes her head. “You dolt, my idea of the Christmas spirit is an action movie that just so happens to take place Christmas Eve. I don’t even know what mistletoe is, for god’s sake.”

 

At that, Cassian grins. She almost asks why, before he pulls out the sprig of mistletoe from his back pocket. 

 

“Did you…?”

 

“I figured it’d be more useful out here,” he says, holding it above their heads. 

 

“Now what?” Jyn breathes, heartbeat picking up in her wrists. 

 

“Like Han said,” Cassian starts, leaning in, “we kiss.”

 

Jyn angles her head to the side and closes the space between them. Cassian’s lips fit against hers perfectly; they move languidly across hers like they’ve done a million times. He tastes like mulled wine and mint. She sighs, eventually pulling away. 

 

“Merry December twenty-eighth, Jyn,” he says, voice low. 

 

She snorts. “Shut up,” she replies, fitting a hand at the back of his neck and pulling his mouth to hers. Merry December twenty-eighth, indeed. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are love! come fangirl with me on tumblr @baenakinskywalker <3


End file.
